To Turn a Touch into an Embrace
by No Name2
Summary: Its short and sad. Trowa experiences his final hours in the cockpit of Heavyarms. It is based just a little bit on some rping I have done, and I am sorry if there is any confusion while reading.


To Turn a Touch into an Embrace **__**

To Turn a Touch into an Embrace

The pure crimson liquid prevented him from seeing, smeared with disrespect over every single limb. It also restrained his thoughts, he found his soul too disturbed to continue on. The blood still remained dense, clinging in the murky air, stirring itself into gray clouds, filled heavy with water. Right after smoke enveloped the city, the rain would appear. The tiny obscure drops of the clouds, sacrificing themselves for the redemption of the city. Fire burned vividly everywhere someone turned, maybe the drops of water were not enough to distinguish the fever that had been cast over the city. People ran frantically, their hearts racing with an unknown fear. Their only two feet carrying them as fast as they allowed, making sure to never look back, never to remember the horror that flowed through each citizen. Children were at the greatest loss, parents had fled carelessly. Others had been killed as a result of the wretched behavior OZ brought forth. Not only had they drove past their limits, they had went out of their way to ensure the people that everything would be all right. Now, where wreckage and assorted emptiness piled up, where lives had been lost, and where a threat had been made, was now the time to call the situation 'all right'?

His mind was still locked, his brilliant emerald eyes forced into the back of his head. It was as red as a thick carpet, covering all that had dared to involve themselves. He wasn't afraid to go on, it just seemed as though it was all impossible. His wings were heavy, drenched and soaked in the same blood, stained with the blood of all killed. He was the one who had to pay the consequences for an action he never took. Maybe the world felt 'sufficient' enough if it had someone who wouldn't wince at pain if it was thrown directly at him. There was nothing left anymore, his wings were torn, and burnt. They were no longer full and colorful with an ivory white. Now, all that remained were ebony sticks with useless feathers. No time to fly away, no strength to carry on. The only thing he was allowed to remember were the echoing screams of suffering, the choking words one could barely force out. His flesh is now hell, burning with the deepening colors of the growing fires. 

Rolling over, he struggles to sit upright, the nameless title returning to his broken body once again. The blood continues to expand, destroying whatever he had left. The cockpit was a complete blur, his shaking hands, performing nothing. He was unsure if he was the only one left, he had been prevented from remembering, for a second time in his life. Finally, taking one hand up to his face, he separated the liquid from his face, now dressing his hand in a thick red coat. Both ghastly green eyes flickering then halting to open slightly, he stares at the perished surroundings. He wasn't sure what had just happened, the thoughts of moments ago, erased, for a second time in his life. He had lost his feelings...he knew that, it was quite easy to decipher. Those unbeatable green eyes soon closed, casting the chains away from his head, setting his mind adrift...

He could've sworn she was holy, she was an angel, a savior that she always had refused to be. She had always taught him that she was a useless officer, and her birth was for that purpose only. She was doing nothing but discriminating herself, he didn't feel as though she understood that even if she was a simple officer, she was still a human being. Her touch was golden, perhaps she was the angel that was capable of beautiful wings. He never figured out why, but she chose him over every other person she had ever encountered. He felt ashamed, but happy at the same time. The first time her hand ever touched him was when she placed it upon his shoulder. Times were wearing him out in the Red Thorn Factory, they were taking their toll on his weary body. He had just carried her down the hall, and was already hesitating to near her as he let her go. Though, the second her hand gracefully made it's presence clear, he felt as though nothing in the world could harm him. Back then, he wouldn't have admitted that, but now, now was a different story. She gave him clearance, the fears and the eternal pain draining away. She gave him relief, and she gave him... herself. She was someone to live for, and just because of that, he wouldn't demolish himself in the next huge war. Just because of her touch...

Awaking from his living slumber, he thought he heard someone call a name...a name quite familiar. They had said 'Trowa', but he could barely remember if that was encouraged to be his name, or not. The only thing of remembrance now, was the officer, after going over her appearance a couple times more, he started softly muttering letters, soon forming a word. A name, too scared for the ears of anyone else, too beautiful to speak about, too holy to recognize. Tsume is what he had regained, he didn't know exactly where she was, he didn't know if he would ever lay his emerald eyes upon her again, but he knew that she was the only part of his life...worth living. 

Looking over to his arm, he saw that crimson despair, it was coming out quite rapidly. Due to lack of memory, he was not sure about how his skin had been torn, but he understood that in order to live, he would have to stop the bleeding. And that, that was where he paused. His heart stopped beating and he refused to gather another breath. He seemed to be working with a denial, a denying soul that would not face the truth. The truth was what hurt him though, it scarred him, it bruised and battered his worn body and mind. A spirit with nothing but the shadows. Like earlier thoughts, he was unsure if Tsume still walked the disgraceful earth. He didn't want her to suffer the despair that had encircled the last remains. So in the thoughts he enveloped himself...the word 'Trowa' ringing deeply. He did not refuse the blood, if it wasn't meant to be, it never would've happened. It was a death full of terror, just to die slowly, the picture soon fading away, the thoughts soon dying with everything else. His wings were ebony sticks, his feathers useless, but his life, it had possibly meant something to the Red Thorn officer...so now it was his turn to sacrifice whatever he had left. His silence. He didn't need to self-detonate, the blood was enough. He wouldn't kill the spirit of his Gundam, knowing she was alive was enough. It had all leveled down to this hellish occurrence...it wasn't the happiest thing in the world.

His chance never appeared though. She had started this by touching him on the shoulder. His last wish and his last words before his own blood devoured his body, were amazingly simple. He only wanted to turn her touch into an embrace, an everlasting embrace. One to block out all the evil that would ever harm the two, one that would fill the void that seemed emptier than space itself. One to end it all.

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By: No Name

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Note-

I guess I had spare time to write this. It isn't the greatest piece in the world, but I still went out of my way to write it. I bet your wondering what the heck 'Red Thorn' is and who the heck is 'Tsume'...Well I am truly sorry, I can tell you this much: The events I have written about has come from roleplaying Gundam Wing. Tsume and Red Thorn are copyrighted to a friend who will remain nameless, just in case she wishes to keep her name to herself -_-; *sighsigh* Thank you for reading this short little thing, and I hope your day goes well.


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